Assault on the South
by MJTR
Summary: Years ago, four terrorists were responsible for an attack on the Southern Water Tribe and an attempt to capture the young Avatar Korra. After over a decade in confinement, their motivations were never revealed. These are the actions and conversations that led to and transpired that day.
1. Chapter I: Chief of the North

[[Author's Note: I usually go out of my way to write "Original Flavor" style pieces and almost always prefer to write stories that match the tone and rating of the work they're based on. That said, I wanted to branch out a little on this one. More on that later.]]

Chapter I: Chief of the North

Mad genius comes in many forms. I have watched it breed industrialists, weapons of war and impressive abusers of legal systems. The spark of insanity present in the eyes of a select few individuals can ignite wars and snuff them out, all in an instant. I cannot even say I am much different. My aspirations are over a decade away, and yet I patiently await the alignment of fate to truly embrace the coming chaos.

But then there is the man sitting across from me at the Pai Sho board. Everything about him is methodical. He lingers, but when he has chosen his move, he doesn't take a second longer than necessary to move a piece. Even the way he drinks his tea has such an intense purpose to it, and if even a single of his short, slicked back black hair falls from its position, he fixes it instantly.

We were sitting in my private quarters, constructed just underneath the spirit oasis. It is the best place in the north to meditate, and usually one of the few places I can escape the screech of my children. Around the perimeter of the room is a currently stagnant rectangular river, which I bend when I need the ambient noise.

I am hardly paying attention to the game at this point. "So, what do you think of my proposal?"

"I think it's a very dangerous one," he replies, a small smile coming across his face as he sips his tea. "Some buildings might get wrecked. Some people might die… They got a chief down there?"

"His name is Sokka. Not particularly of note, except that he was the Avatar's brother-in-law," I replied, absentmindedly sliding a piece into place.

"Duly noted," he replied with another sip of tea. "Alright, so say I get my squad in there, are we playing for keeps or-"

My head jerks to the side as the door behind me slowly creaks open. My heart begins to pound as Malina walks in, innocently offering offering him more tea, which he accepts. The look in her eyes tells me she is suspicious of the overly polite man sitting opposite me. My own glare commands her to leave, and I try to force her to remember she swore not to interrupt.

"It's the best I've had in the north," he says, raising his cup in praise. "And it is good to have something warm amongst all this cold. You have a good wife, Unalaq."

"May I bring you anything else?" She asked, my stare continuing to insist that she leave.

"No. But the tea is excellent," he said again. With a hesitant, half-hearted smile, Malina begins to step out of the room before she freezes in place at the sound of screaming down the hall. I see another small smile come across my opponent's face as I scowl at her.

"Shut the door." I commanded. "And don't open it again until we're through-"

Two tiny bodies rush into the room, laughing and screaming as they make their way around the Pai Sho table and my hand in instantly clutching my temple in irritation.

"That's not fair!" Desna shouts. "You can't pass through dad's private room! It's off limits!"

"Yeah, well I just did!" Eska shouted back, pulling down one of her eyelids and sticking out her tongue. "I'm gonna make it back to base!"

"Well I'm gonna catch you first!"

"Eska, Desna _please_!" Malina shouts. "Your father is very busy right now, go play somewhere else-"

"You can't catch me!"

"That's because you're a cheater-"

"ENOUGH!"

With a stomp of my foot the water from the river bursts to life, trapping Eska and Desna firmly in place as it quickly solidifies into ice. Both are taken aback for a moment before looking worriedly at me.

"How many times have I told you to stay out of this place?!" I demanded.

Eska instantly looked down in shame. "We're sorry Daddy… We were just-"

"You were disgracing a sacred place with your infantile games!" I scolded. "You two both need to learn some respect for your father's work-"

"Unalaq that's enough!" Melina cries, the ice trapping the twins melting as she did, both of them looking on the verge of tears as Eska ran to her mother. "Come on you two. Let's leave your father and his friend be."

"You should be studying," I retorted. "Or meditating. Learning some restraint."

"They are only children." He replies, and in my frustration I turn to him, again slowly sipping his tea. "No need to be such a staunch authority… We don't like authority, now do we?"

With a scowl I sit back down and make my move. "Are you questioning my motivations?"

"I am only saying I find it ironic that a man who claims to be an anarchist is the much revered chief of the north," he replied.

"I didn't choose my heritage… And who better an ally could you have to ensure the return of the spirits in a few years' time?"

"I only hope that you remember that when the day of convergence comes," he replied, sliding one of his tile's over and remarking, "I believe that's the game."

"What?" I demanded, looking down at the board and seeing what appeared to be a red-stained white lotus tile sitting amongst his most recent harmony, sure it had not been there before. "Did you just place that piece while I was dealing with my children?" I asked.

"Did I?" He asked back. "Weren't you paying attention to the game?"

"You cheated," I retorted.

"Yes. I did. But you didn't know for sure. And what are you really looking for today, Unalaq? Are you seeking an honest man who knows how to accept defeat? Or do you want a cheater who wins?"

I glared at him and that smug look on his face. "… So you believe you can do it? You can bring me back my Avatar?"

"Of course we can," he said. "But there's no use trying to finish her off now, am I correct?"

"Indeed. She is too young to wield the Avatar state. We would only have to track her down all over again, somewhere in the expanse of the Earth Kingdom. And then we would still need her to open the portals. Bring her to me alive, and I will do the rest."

"Should we fail… Can I expect your assistance?"

"I will personally ensure your escape," I confirmed. "The four of you are in safe hands."

"Excellent." He said, taking a last drink from his cup of tea and getting to his feet. "Leave the rest to us."


	2. Chapter II: A Warrior and a Poet

Some say that a weapon is only as useful as the one who wields it. I feel this is a tremendously optimistic and ultimately foolish way to view any scenario in battle. Fists will rarely defeat blades, a single boat stands hardly any chance against a battleship and a bender will almost always crush a nonbender. And for that reason, those without blades, battleships or bending must learn to compensate, just the same way that I have. I have studied weapons and arts from across the four nations, but more than that I am a swift learner. Ever changing, ever moving, like the wind.

My eyes scanned over my collection as I carefully selected the tools for my quest. Into the pouches secured to my waist I placed several canisters of blasting gel and a handful of smoke pellets. Also secured to my belt were a pair of fang daggers. Over my undershirt I bore a chain and bolo and saddled to my gi was my bow, a quiver of arrows and my trusted odachi, personally crafted over a decade ago and still in the finest condition. My use of this blade was minimal, as it is nearly as large as I am, but I could find a use for it on the most particular of occasions.

"You almost done in there?" A voice outside my cache asked. "Boat's waiting on you, Zaheer."

"Funny, I thought we were waiting on you," I replied, turning to my companion in the doorway. "I see you shaved. Must have been hard for you."

"Been growing the damn thing since I was ten," Ghazan replied, scratching under his nose. "But you know, low profile and that. Gonna have to cover the tattoos as well… But it'll be cold as ice down there, so that shouldn't be too bad."

"I take it our transportation is ready then?" I asked.

"As she'll ever be, having to force our way into the Iceberg Festival and all," Ghazan said. "C'mon, let's get outta here already."

"Alright, alright," I said, grabbing one last small vial and sliding it into my gi. I wondered for a moment if it would be necessary, but ultimately decided I would be better with it than without.

It had been six months since my initial meeting with Unalaq and the discussion of our plans, some spent planning, most spent waiting. We would arrive in the South Pole at the time of the yearly Iceberg Festival, the celebration amongst the Southern Water Tribe of the discovery of Avatar Aang in the iceberg now fifty-seven years ago. Its citizens would surely all be too obsessed with the celebrating and the return of their former Avatar that their new one would be easy to reach amongst all the noise and distraction. We would arrive by one of Unalaq's ceremonial ships, his envoys keeping our presence a secret as we descended into the thick of the ice and snow.

By now they had all begun to earn their reputations, though I remained in shadow. A long haired, tattooed street-punk who could strike like a volcano, an a crazed, crippled girl with tentacles in place of arms and a nearly silent triclops who was a bomb waiting to go off. At this point, only P'Li had been identified, the rest of us remained nameless, and I had yet to see my own face on a single poster anywhere. To the rest of the world, we were threats, but nothing worth giving serious consideration. After this mission, even if we failed, I knew that would change forever.

Unalaq's ship would transport us from our safehouse near Kyoshi to the south with the assurance we wouldn't be found as long as we stayed below the deck. So there the four of us sat as the biting cold of the biting cold of the south slowly began to penetrate the lower deck. Ghazan drew a few rocks from within his coat, swiftly bending the minerals within and laying a layer of crackling lava atop the coals in the engine. "I hate the cold," he said offhandedly.

I was sure I could feel the intensity of Ming Hua's glare as she turned to him, tossing one of her three ponytails aside when it briefly slid to her front with a jerk of her head. "We all know you hate the cold," she sneered. "That's why I kept coming back and finding you with firebenders!"

"Aw c'mon Ming, don't hold so many grudges," Ghazan said, breathing into his hands and casting her a taunting smile. "I'm just an open-minded man. I like my women, be they earthy, fiery or very, very wet."

"If it wasn't going to sink this whole ship I'd thrust an icicle out of the water and right up your ass right now," she replied.

"Settle down you two," I chuckled. "Save the aggression for our opposition." I turned then to the woman at my side, leaning against my arm. P'Li had pulled her hair back into a line of braids circling her scalp, and the look on her face struck me as nervous. "You alright?" I asked.

"We'll win, won't we?" She asked. "We're going to get the Avatar and get out, right?"

"We'll be just fine," I assured her, laying a hand in one of hers. "We'll be in and out before they even realize what we've done. And we'll be one step closer to our perfect world."

"No one's gonna get the drop on us, P'Li," Ghazan said. "And even if they do, we've got one of the strongest forces on the planet ready to crack us back out." Ghazan noticed the way I looked down when he made this remark, and quickly asked, "What?"

"It would be foolish to overestimate Unalaq's loyalty." I replied. "I saw the way he keeps his palace. I saw the way he treats his children… How confident are we that a man who is himself an emperor wishes to see emperors destroyed?"

"If we're talking about taking down Unalaq later, you are all to reserve that privilege to me." Ming Hua retorted. "He'd benefit from a taste of his own medicine."

"Oh, what's this?" Ghazan asked. "Ming's finally gonna tell us why she hates Unalaq's guts? I've been waiting way too long for this one."

Our eyes turned to her, but the object of her disdain swiftly changed from Unalaq to all of us. "Nevermind… I'm not talking about this."

"Onea these days, Ming, onea these days," Ghazan replied. He then turned his attention back to me. "Zaheer, are you gonna force us to be tourists for a day or two before we go through with it?"

"We don't have the time," I assured him, though I was sure he could hear a twinge of disappointment in my voice.

"Good… P'Li, you weren't with us at the time, but Zaheer has had a habit on these trips of dragging us along to see all these stupid monuments and that crap. 'And here we can see the place Avatar Kyoshi liberated this island from' blah blah blah. He's sick with nostalgia for times he's never even lived in."

"Even this is a little different," I remarked. "Avatar Aang was in all of our lifetimes."

"Leading to that same old story of the time you met the guy, yeah yeah yeah," Ghazan replied. "I was all ready to hear why the heck Ming hates everyone so much, but you go and ruin it like this." His aggressive attitude was still playful, but I could tell he was desperate for sleep. "Big day tomorrow. First step towards changing the world forever. I'm going to sleep. Ming, last chance if you want to join me."

"Tempting as that icicle I mentioned is, I'll pass," she said, making her way to her own corner of the hull. "See you all in the morning."

With that they left P'Li and I alone next to the fire, one of my hands softly combing through her hair. "I'll hear the story again. I'll listen whenever you want to tell it."

She didn't even have to ask. I think back on how I found myself here every time I take a new assignment. I have long since erased any doubt in my cause from my mind, but it is still reassuring to remember where I began.


	3. Chapter III: Loss and Gain

My parents were a wealthy pair towards the northmost side of the Earth Kingdom, in the small community of Rashon, wholly populated by socialites who shipped its rich resources, minerals and gemstones to Ba Sing Se. Nothing much ever went on there, with every building formed and fortified like an impenetrable fortress daring any vagabonds to disrupt its idyllic atmosphere, a large, steel gate surrounding the entire town. My childhood was filled with toys and candies and the many sweet things available to the Earth Kingdom's elite. And raised in that kind of environment, I was sure everyone else lived much the same way.

At least until the days I began to venture a ways outside the community. I remember the first day I saw the worn, weak earthbender, his body covered in mud, blood and sweat, his feet covered in blisters, walking away from the gem-filled mountains to the north of our village. And saw him as he collapsed.

"Mister? Mister are you okay?" I asked, offering him a hand.

"I'm… I'm-" he let out a painful wheeze. "I'm fine kid… Long day in the mines. That's all."

"Why were you in the mines all day?" I asked.

"Herbologists are expensive, pal. And my kids need their medicine."

"You're not even wearing any shoes!" I protested.

"Yeah, well maybe if I work a little harder I can save up for some new ones."

He was the first man I ever saw walking away from those mines, but certainly not the last. When I asked my parents about it days later, they told me he probably worked for someone in our village. That even if things seemed down for him now, he could surely work his way up someday, he just had to handle his money carefully, like my family had. The irony of a broken man digging out diamonds and gemstones still strikes me even to this day.

My parents and the rest of the elite owned the mines and paid their workers only a fraction of the fortunes they brought out with them each day. Anyone found attempting to smuggle those riches was eventually caught and harshly punished. And with the constant danger and weakness the workers always found themselves in, their meager payments only barely kept them alive. The difference between the elite of my community and slavedrivers was a loose technicality.

I don't know how I could have possibly been surprised when I awoke when our house was set aflame in the middle of the night.

If I had to guess what exactly transpired beforehand, it would be that one of the foreman from the mines, the only ones with a key to get past the gate, had finally decided he had seen enough for the hypocrisy and abuse my parents and the other mine-owners were partaking in. I don't think any of them were firebenders themselves, and the fire was probably started by some of the explosives they used to make their way through the mines. Regardless, I remember being pulled from my bed by my mother, screaming about the grave danger we were in. She carried me to the outside as the chaos ensued, the smoke felling my nose and lungs and threatening to pull me into darkness.

I saw the oppressed workers screaming and bending with all their might. Houses were torn apart, fires were set, it was a destructive and merciless scene. I could see the dirty men, women and children rushing to the storehouses and running off gleefully with armfuls of gold and diamonds, running away to build better lives for themselves after the horrors my family had rot upon them. With another inhale of smoke, I was rendered unconscious.

When I awoke the next morning I was somewhere else. Somewhere stone, cold and ancient, by the looks of it. I was lying on a mat on the ground, and after my eyes adjusted to the brilliant glare of the sun, I saw about half of the adults and children of the town standing in a small crowd along with another figure. Someone who, until that moment, I had only heard the faintest words about. He was a tall, dignified looking man with a brown beard and a shaven head, a blue tattoo of an arrow running down the center.

In spite of the always cheerful and charming stories I had been told, Avatar Aang at this time bore a scowl and a voice that shook with contempt.

"How many in your village were killed in that raid?" He demanded. "How many of your friends and family suffered and died because you were too consumed in your own greed to allow your workers the bare necessities of life?"

"You're blaming us?! We were the ones attacked!"

"And from what you all have told me, you have been preying upon the weakness of your servants for far too long," The Avatar replied. "What they did was wrong, they have now done terrible things. But you paved this path yourselves… And maybe you can begin your road to redemption here." He motioned to the place that surrounded us, saying, "I brought you all, atop my bison, to the Northern Air Temple. The air acolytes will help treat all of you for your wounds, and you may remain here to recover. But you should know your entire village was leveled by that assault. If you wish to use this temple for shelter, you will abide by our ways. Otherwise, try and make something better of your lives when you leave."

…

I arrived in that temple when I was eight years old, and remained there for my next seven. I would often hear the people of my village complain about everything involved in our stay. The way the acolytes forbid the eating of meat, the discomfort in the sleeping quarters and the general rejection of creature comforts. Such was this disdain that I hid that part of me secretly liked the simplistic lifestyle and philosophies of the acolytes. I enjoyed attending the classes and lectures the gurus taught, and worked off a lot of the weight I had carried from all those sweets practicing yoga and martial arts.

More than anything else, the acolytes taught me what a simple place the world can be, if you permit it to be. When my mother once asked me how I could possibly be happy with everything that had been ripped from our hands, I told her it was because I had accepted what had happened in the past. That pain and suffering exist, but by lingering, we only prolong it.

Needless to say, my parents, and much of the rest of my destroyed village, did not share the philosophies of the acolytes. There was only so much of that simplicity they could stand.

Four years into our time there, I was again awoken in the middle of the night, this time by my mother.

"Zaheer…? Zaheer wake up. Wake up! We're leaving this place."

"Wha… What?"

"Your father and I have packed. We're finally leaving this temple. We're going to rebuild our lives."

"But… But we were already rebuilding our lives. The monks took us in."

"And then took away our choice in the matter," my father retorted. "They'd like us to be trapped here forever, Zaheer. But we're not like them. We have lives to live outside these walls. And we finally have the means to do it. Come on son, we're leaving."

It was then, after scratching my eyes, that I saw their carrying bags and my heart sank. They were full of the small, meditating idols that decorated the temple and a number of worn old scrolls. Antiques and precious valuables of the airbenders.

"You're… You're stealing from them?" I asked weakly, tears forming in my eyes.

"There's enough here to rebuild what we lost," my father said. "We can go back to the outside, back to living the good life!"

I remained in that devastated state for a few seconds as my mother grabbed me by my arm and pulled me out of bed, but with a yank I forced myself free. Tears were streaming down my cheeks and I couldn't control my voice. I began to scream, painful and shrill.

"You're betraying them! The people who saved you- Who took you in- T_his_ is how you repay them?!"

"Quiet Zaheer!" My mother hissed. "You'll wake the monks-"

"I hope I do!" I yelled back. "You… You're monsters! Greedy monsters who only care about being rich again! No matter what these people have done from you, you're going to-"

My father stepped forward and struck me across the face, issuing a, "Quiet!" Of his own, grabbing me by my shirt and dragging me towards the outside.

"Help! Help!" I screamed. "Someone, anyone, help!"

By the time we stepped out into the cold of the autumn air my father had thrown me to the ground, one eye twitching in anger. I knew how to counter and escape from them, I could have fought back. But they were my parents. Once my caring, spoiling parents. I couldn't possibly fight them. But they could fight me if it meant leaving the temple and regaining their fortune.

But at last my cries of pain were met with some kind of response. At least half a dozen monks, probably meditating before sunrise, appeared in the temple's courtyard, looks of absolute disgust and anger upon their faces.

"This is how you repay us?" One asked. "After we gave you shelter?"

"You forced us into a prison!" My father barked back. "Look at you, defending a culture that isn't even your own! Well we have had enough."

"You have always been free to leave whenever you wished," another monk said. "But set down that bag and those artifacts. And let the boy go."

"You don't tell us what to do with our son!" My mother objected. At this moment, I pushed to my feet and ran, sobbing in pain and anguish, to one of the monks, clinging to his robes before furiously looking back at my parents.

"I'm not your son!" I shouted. "Not anymore! All you've _ever_ done was try and control people! Well you're done trying to control me!"

In spite of their former resolve, this cry seemed to weaken my mother. "No… Zaheer listen to me. We've never tried to-"

"All you care about is power!"

"No," my father said, trying to maintain his composure. "Zaheer, all we ever cared about was you-"

"Then you should just have made lives for yourselves here. And if you really mean it, you'll leave and never come back!"

Both of my parents remained frozen in place as they stared at the monks and back at me. Slowly, my father set down the bag of stolen idols and raised his hands. "Zaheer… Look at me… Zaheer… I'm giving them back… Please… Don't act like this."

"I don't care if you give them back," I said with some struggle. "You've done enough. I'm not going with you."

Silence, save for my sobs, overtook the courtyard for a few seconds before my mother pleaded, "Please… We've made a grave mistake. Take everything back, we'll stay. We won't complain anymore… Just don't separate us from our son-"

"I AM NOT YOUR SON!"

"You have committed a grave act on this night." The monk who held me said. "With or without your son, you would be banished from our temple for this until you can prove you have overcome the actions that have made you this way."

"Then isn't leaving us without shelter penance enough?" My father demanded. "How could you separate us from our son as well?!"

"We had no intention of separating you from your son. Those were Zaheer's words. Not ours."

"… Son…"

"… Zaheer…"

"… Leave. And don't ever come back."

Those were my last words to them and the last look I have them. I could hear their screams of struggle and resistance thereafter as the monk led me away, a caring hand on my shoulder.

"I am so sorry, Zaheer."

"… Pain exists. It is only by lingering that we turn it into suffering." I said weakly. It took everything in my being to not sob harder. No matter what I had said or how I had behaved, something had still just disappeared from my life. Forever.

"… I know it cannot do much to help you now. But there is an old airbending saying. 'In order to maintain balance, something must be lost by every gain. But something too is gained in every loss'."

With a brief wheeze and choke I said, "Than I hope I gain a lot. Otherwise I'll never keep balance."

The old monk showed me the saddest smile I have ever seen in my life. "You will, Zaheer. Guru Laghima said so."

…

By this point P'Li had fallen asleep at my side. There was more that had led me to this point, more gains, more losses and a far longer search for balance. But that was enough for one night. After all, there was much work to be done in the morning.


	4. Chapter IV: Arrival

[[Author's note: I want to take a sec to apologize on how long this one came out and that it's rather short. There are a few factors that went into this, one being that my original copy of this chapter wasn't saved properly and I had to start from scratch.

The other was a decision to alter the pace and setup a bit. Originally, this was going to simultaneously be a story describing the battle in the South over Korra and an explanation of the backstories of the Red Lotus members, like how we got some of Zaheer's history. However, I was growing increasingly displeased with how it was affecting the pacing, so I have elected that I will be describing their backstories elsewhere in a companion piece to this I will name "The Blooming Lotus", so look for that sometime in the near future for more on Ghazan, Ming Hua and P'Li.]]

I was awoken the next morning by the rumble of the anchor hitting the ocean floor and some mostly blotted voices coming from the upper deck. After the witching hour it had become even colder than the previous day, and I could see the discomfort on P'Li's face as she too began to stir. The lava Ghazan had ignited had long since cooled and the lower deck had become miserable. I was longing for sunlight in that darkness, but knew I'd have it soon enough.

Perhaps half an hour later the door to the deck was opened, two of the ship hands passing on bowls of steaming fish and rice soup. I could see the disdain on Ghazan's face as he accepted it.

"C'mon, really? Is this a meal for a warrior? I feel cheated."

"Be gracious to our hosts," I told him sternly, doing so thereafter and slowly picking through the broth with my chopsticks.

From his first sip Ghazan let out a hack and cough. "I _am_ gracious to our hosts. It's not their fault this was all they had."

"Actually it's traditional water tribe," One of the decksmen said, unamused. "Panther eel and rice is said to keep a warrior full for a long day of battle."

"What, are you serious…? Ming? Ming how the hell did you eat this crap?"

"Without hands," she snapped, glaring at him as the bowl's contents slowly began to levitate, the hot broth gently extending towards her lips as she gave it a blow. The way she has managed in her condition still impresses me, even in such simple acts.

I picked the lumps of eel out of my soup and set them into P'Li's bowl, keeping my attention to the rice and salty broth. I'm not a vegetarian by choice anymore, but the years of living with the monks had permanent effects on my stomach. Though I wouldn't dare say it aloud, I had similar sentiments as Ghazan. It tasted like rations, more than anything else. There's an old adage that goes- _In the perfect world, the airbenders are peacekeepers, the earthbenders are mechanics, the firebenders are the cooks and the waterbenders care for the ill. In the world of nightmares, the airbenders are the mechanists, the earthbenders care for the ill, the firebenders are the peacekeepers and the waterbenders are the cooks_. Whatever stereotypes the saying represents, it is unquestionable that Water Tribe food is not particularly suited to the palate of an outsider.

As we ate our meal I produced the scroll detailing the day's activities that Unalaq had given me once they had been finalized, P'Li supplying me with the flame necessary to read in the dark of the lower deck. "We've just arrived, which means it's probably about ten in the morning." My finger slowly traced over the itinerary as Ghazan and Ming Hua leaned in close. "Open festivities until noon… Then a speech by Katara. Another speech at three by Zuko. Another one by Tenzin at six before the friends and family gather for a feast-"

"Damn, the Firelord _and_ the Avatar's son are both here?" Ghazan asked. "I'm not looking forward to tangling with them."

"Zuko is aging, he's well past his prime," Ming Hua pointed out. "And the Avatar's son is an airbender. He won't be a problem."

"Don't underestimate him," I remarked. "None of us have ever fought an airbender before. And however peaceful his heritage is, he's still a warrior. Like his father."

"If there's anyone to worry about, it'll be Unalaq's brother," P'Li said. "There is a reason waterbending fathers are called, 'Papa Wolf Bears'."

"If all goes as we hope, there will not be a need to battle any of them," I said. "We're only using force if absolutely necessary. We seek destruction of institution, not of innocent lives."

We remained within for the next two hours until another of the hands came and motioned we could exit. Each of us stepped out of the boat, garbed in heavy winter coats and gloves, each with a few personal touches as need be. Ming Hua's coat was several sizes too big, to better justify the complete lack of anything protruding from the sleeves. P'Li wore a headband to cover the third eye tattooed on her forehead and Ghazan kept his scarf raised above his mouth, insisting he was so out of place without his moustache that someone would recognize him by noticing it was missing. It was an insane belief, but I didn't try and sway him from remaining conspicuous. My weaponry, most notably my bow and odachi, remained outside of my coat. If anyone troubled me about them, Unalaq insisted, I should simply say they were decorative and I was looking to sell them to some vendor. The odachi is, after all, long and heavy enough to appear impractical to most people.

With the first crunch of fresh snow as we proceeded into the South Pole, it really struck me that after all these months, we were finally there. About to undertake the most important journey of our lives. If we succeeded, we were going to change the world forever.

But it was pointless to try and make a move against the Avatar and her protectors at that point. As it had been pointed out, some of the most esteemed benders who had ever lived were gathered all in one place. The legendary Toph Beifong would be the only other truly formidable opponent who could have turned up. But even the mighty can grow weary after a long day of speeches, food and heavy drink. By night's end they would all collapse in exhaustion, and our work would be all the easier.

Until then, all we had to do was avoid drawing attention. We were just four outsiders celebrating one of the biggest festivals in the south.

I had to laugh at the way I sounded like a parent telling Ghazan and Ming Hua not to get into trouble as P'Li and I made out way into the crowds that dwindled thanks to Katara's speech. "Are you hungry?" I asked.

"I've had enough Water Tribe food," she muttered.

So we continued around the stalls, casually looking over the small, hand carved figurines of Avatar Aang and large stuffed replicas of his bison. The only stand that caused me a double check of displeasure: one with a young man painting light blue arrows on children's arms and foreheads.

"Reducing his culture to face painting… Of course that's what he would have wanted," I retorted.

"I could blow it to dust," P'Li whispered. "I'm getting sick of playing along… It could be anyone out here."

"You know that isn't true," I told her. "It's an annoyance… But we have to let it be. We don't want any attention."

Without much else to kill the time, I led P'Li to the yard on the village's southern side where Zuko would soon be giving his speech at around two, finding us two seats between the middle and back of the audience. There were already many others waiting to hear the Firelord speak. I wasn't particularly interested in what Zuko had to say, but the celebration only had so much appeal with our attempts to remain inconspicuous and inability to take any inebriating substances. Sledding on penguins could easily cause some piece of our disguises to come out of place and photos with Tenzin's bison could confirm our presence. So waiting for Zuko it was.

About ten or fifteen minutes after we'd been seated I said, "Still too damn cold out. I'm getting some tea. You want anything?"

"Mint, if they have it."

I rose from my seat and proceeded to one of the vendors, finding myself just behind Ming Hua when I did.

"Enjoying yourself?" I asked.

"I hate the South."

"You hate the South, you hate the North, any place you don't hate?"

"The Swamp," she said curtly. "Shame there's no fried possum chicken around here."

"The Swamp? Never heard that detail before."

"… Well… If I get killed in the crossfire… I'd like someone to know the truth. Ghazan's a bastard and P'Li's a basket case. You're the only one around here I can really trust."

"Well then, I suppose I'm honored. I wish you wouldn't refer to P'Li like that though."

"I'm not being offensive," Ming Hua said quickly. "But she has a lot she's still getting past. I'm not bothering her with my business."

"Well, I guess I know one thing about you," I said. "You've been to The Swamp. At some point or another."

"You just get a taste… I'm sick and tired of hearing about Ghazan's shit over and over again. The less I say the better."

"I hardly think what Ghazan went through is anything like that," I told her. "He was just a kid when all that happened… He was being promised a better life."

Ming Hua opened her mouth to add another thought when I found myself stopped dead in my tracks. I could hear a giggle turning into a laugh. I don't know how I knew it was her, a sixth sense just seemed to overtake me.

"Zo-ko, Zo-ko!" She laughed. With a tiny, deep colored outstretched hand she grabbed ahold of the small, graying beard upon the Firelord's chin and tugged on it, repeatedly chanting his name as she sat on the shoulders of her giant of a father.

The three of them must have all arrived early to make their way in for Zuko's speech, the Avatar and her father surely to be placed as his guests of honor as he joined her laughter and tussled her hair with a gentle hand.

There was no doubt. That tiny, laughing child was our Avatar.

That tiny, laughing child was our target.


End file.
